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The Gilded Life of Matilda Duplaine

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Alex Brunkhorst

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“They all hushed as Brinny, the one murderess of their crew, told them of the making of her bride cake, with primrose yellow butter and raisins of the sun, fattened on smuggled brandy. The further they sailed from England, the fonder they grew of the pleasures of home: plum trees with bowed branches, brambles in the hedge, cream from a beloved cow.”

CakePleasures Of LifeHome Is Where The Heart IsReminiscentEnglish Countryside
Book:A Taste for Nightshade
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“The sketchbook was still open on the table and I rushed to it. It was the one that Edward used over the summer of 1862. I had sat beside him while he made those very lines on that piece of cotton paper: studies for the painting he had planned, something he had been thinking about for years. On the following pages, I knew, were his sketches of the clearing in the woods and the fairy mound and a stone croft by the river, and at the bottom corner of one, in loose scratched lines, the heart he had penned, and the ship on the wide sea, as we spoke excitedly of our plans.”

ReminiscentSketchesWhat Could Have BeenSketchbookLost Loved One
Book:The Clockmaker's Daughter
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“It had withstood the years. His knife sliced it open and the cork was still intact beneath. For a moment the scent was so immediately pungent that all he could do was endure it, teeth clenched, as it worked its will on him. It smelled earthy and a little sour, like the canal in midsummer, with a sharpness which reminded him of the vegetable cutter and the gleeful tang of freshly dug potatoes. For a second the illusion was so strong that he was actually there in that vanished place with Joe leaning on his spade and the radio wedged in a fork in a tree. A sudden overwhelming excitement took hold of him and he poured a small quantity of the wine into a glass, trying not to spill the liquid in his eagerness. It was dusky pink, like papaya juice, and it seemed to climb the sides of the glass in a frenzy of anticipation, as if something inside it were alive and anxious to work its magic on his flesh.”

WineColorsSmellsReminiscent
Book:Blackberry Wine
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“This tastes so familiar!" Sana said. "That sourness... is it from tamarind?" When I nodded, she grinned, the dazzling smile lighting up her whole face. "I knew it. My family's originally from Trinidad, and we use it in a bunch of dishes. This soup is new to me, but somehow it tastes like home, you know?" She attacked the soup and rice with new vigor, and so did I, both of us patting sweat away with the paper napkins on the table. Rob noticed this and frowned. "I don't understand how you two can eat soup on such a hot day." I snorted. "What, do you think people in hot climates never eat soup?" Sana added, "Why do you think so many tropical countries eat spicy food? Sweating is healthy and helps us cool off. Removes toxins from the body, too.”

SweatingReminiscentSpicy FoodTamarind
Book:Homicide and Halo-Halo
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“We need to engage with the family for deeper insight into the dysfunctions and dynamics that led to a decision to make permanent body changes with surgery. Taking the easy route of writing a prescription for testosterone after one or two short visits, instead of careful evaluation and exploration, is woefully inadequate.”

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Book:The Trans Train: A Parent's Perspective on Transgender Medicalization and Ideology
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